Epar
by Sahk
Summary: Shu messes with the wrong guy. Complete, gen. Non-con, but not very graphic.


Somewhere, floating and bobbing on waves of adrenaline and secondhand fumes, somewhere across this wide continent there are knowing eyes meeting grinning eyes, meeting and communicating with expression and posture. Somewhere not to far, not out of reach, there are mind-twins exchanging vows and messages in their minds and with their faces, not needing to speak, not needing words. They feed off of the consternated, drawn brows of their victims; they feed off of lulz. They spread out, still reaching occasionally to brush metaphoric fingertips, still keeping contact, but they turn their attention outwards and they hunt. Predators in the shining darkness, experienced players of the emotions of strangers: They are Shuers, out to play. They are Shucon in the club.

They are young, strong and always together. They are behind walls of established relationships. Their only weaknesses, their only vulnerabilities are revealed to each other and invisible to even the most observant stranger, who will only be made more and more confus by their flippancy, by their pointless fierce. Impenetrable, now, after so many years of bonding, and they are out to get the innocent man.

They are the vicious, tight-wound core of Candy Shuriken.

And who am I?

I was a victim – and still am, for the scars they carved into me remain. They've forgotten me, surely, being one of so many, but I remember. And I'll make them remember me – soon.

* * *

He was young but attractive; he was naïve but had an innate skill: catching eyes. He looked underage… but hat.

He was the perfect target.

Khodaa spotted him first and gestured, turning with questioning eyes. A few nods confirmed, and they moved into formation.

Sahk was giggling, and ducked her head to hide it. She was smushed against a thigh and an arm of a stranger, in a dark room full of moans and shrieking laughs and screams, colored rays of light over pitch black excitement and under it all, the pulse of the party: the vibrating beat. But she didn't want to be noticed, even by one person. She needn't have worried, in this situation, especially since she had her Shu to protect her, but any attention scared her to a degree. The 'fro gave her a complex.

She brought a hand to her mouth and looked on to the action.

As usual, Lee was in charge of initial maneuvering.

"Get out of my way," he said gruffly, and shoved the young Billie directly into – and over, for this Billie was tall – Tobi, waiting innocently.

And Tobi played the part magnificently, again as usual.

"Oh—oh, I'm so sorry. I –" Lowered, fluttering lashes and a hand drawn up to run along her jaw, flirting, tempting subtly and irresistibly.

"It's okay, it's okay," he mumbled, his eyes intense and focused on the young girl in front of him. Just eighteen and celebrating, it was obvious by her innocent and made-up appearance, far too clean and pretty for the trashy, dirty nightclub. She was like him, but with confidence.

Shizune, watching from the sidelines with arms up over her Helen's shoulders, made amused eye contact with Sahk, who was cracking up. Now, in this uncritical moment, the cat (or Billie) was in the bag, and she felt free to laugh: it didn't matter if anyone around her actually wasn't too high to notice. Her lulz were secured.

They were wondering now, what pick-up line would he use? Really, that was the only question left. With his brow drawn as far as it was, with his lips clenched like that, they could tell it was coming.

The generic: "What's a pretty loli like you doing in a place like this?" The slightly threatening that only made their coming actions sweeter: "You may as well sleep with me, because I'm going to tell everyone we did anyway"? The suggestive, the blunt and straightforward: "At what time do your legs open?" Or the epix, the one they were prepared to fight back against: "Does this smell like chloroform?"

It was none. No pick-up line, only an out-held hand. He wanted to dance.

So, they were wrong. He wasn't the perfect target. He was a bit too green, not quite eager enough to make it easy for them.

But Tobi responded gracefully under the pressure:

"Why don't we skip it and get right to business?"

He didn't turn her down.

* * *

Now was the time when it mattered if Sahk giggled or not. Now, they were alone with their prey, and he still had the slightest chance of escaping. She covered her mouth, and swung her hips, ducking in the door, and hustled quickly to the corner to let the next Shuer in after her, trying to be nimble and silent.

Tobi helped, speaking loudly and languidly, sexily, to him to distract. And, luckily, it worked. Their victim was well chosen enough to be distracted by the biting of loli lip or the flipping of loli hair, and was caught totally unaware at the whoosh of moving air as PNeji swung in, punctuated by the slam of the door being shut quickly, or the mechanic chink of the locks turned.

He turned with lovely round, panicked eyes, sweat just breaking and his stance tense. He tensed further upon seeing the mass of Shuers blocking his only exit.

"Hi," said Lee amiably, "My name is Nylu. What's yours?"

Scared but still reacting, he answered (or started to answer) with what could only be assumed to be honesty: "Vi—"

"No. Now it's Billie."

"Wh—"

They stepped forward, shadows crossing and covering him. They felt power in their hands and pulsing around them, watching him twist to see his date for the night grinning, eyes on the group now behind him, who were closing in.

They felt ecstatic and the violence brought on a natural high as he succumbed to the fear, screaming into a hall full of yells, clawing against the wall of flesh between him and freedom – clawing and resisting impending epar.

Sahk had been hanging back. She walked around and met their Billie's eyes. "Quieres beber waska?" she asked him, before descending as well.

* * *

Afterwards, he lay long after they left on the cheap, sheetless bed in the back of the trashiest club in town. Their apparent indifference to his next actions didn't baffle him, because it didn't occur to him to be baffled. No – his feelings at this moment were deeper, lower, and more painful to him than simple bafflement.

He didn't want to think at all, so for a long time, he didn't.

But once he did, the underlying, running emotion under the shame and confusion, building, living and running in his veins, was anger, red hot and demanding.

* * *

I know them. I know them now. My name that they never learned has benefited me and I've learned their real fears (and that they have them). I've learned their past, lurking, posing as a friendly lurker and compiling data.

And because I know them and because I'm a victim of their sick fun, I am the perfect avenger.

I am prepared. I've shaped my life around this moment. Nothing can go wrong.

I step forward, out of the crowd. I know they don't recognize me, but I also know I'll catch their eye, this second time. They have a type.

I've had my eye on Lee – still obviously the oldest, but young enough to blend in at the club – and I'm aware when he falls in behind me.

I twist, efficient, and grab a wrist.

They tense in unison. Several Shu mouths open and hands are flying, but I move before they can do anything, arms whipping until I have Lee's teeth clamped around my forced hand and the other hand at his neck, pushing in.

He won't stop gnawing and choking, but the adrenaline prevents me from feeling much. I'm so excited to be seeing their faces looking drawn, strained for once.

Two of us speak at once.

"Someone obviously just wants to Shu—"

"My name is Vincent Smith. You raped me at age seventeen. This time, I rape you."

"Pff, we don't want your headless lines."

It's Tobi, or Muffin, speaking. I look at her, and still see the more-innocent version of her through my rose-tinted glasses, still tinted for her.

She's glaring at me, hard. It bothers me. She's still a lolita, even at her age? It defies definition, but it's true. She'll always be Shusuke, I suppose. I squirm, uncomfortable suddenly, but don't loosen my grip.

I want to cry, suddenly, overwhelmed by memory, but I say it anyway: "I will rape your families – y–you denoms!"

And with that, I'm crying.

"Awww. He's cute and pathetic. Have pity, guise," says one of them.

"Can we keep him, can we put him in a cage and keep him?" mocks another.

And I made the stupidest mistake I've ever made, stupider than partying, downtown and underage: I ran away. I lost my chance.

I'm still going to rape their families. Just not today.


End file.
